Robert Crane - Untouched

“I just…” I choked out, “I just…want to be normal.”

I could hear the Cheshire Cat-like smile in his voice. “You’re seventeen years old and you feel like the world is ending around you.” He pulled me tighter, and the gentle pressure was reassuring in a way that I had never known. “Sienna…this is normal.”

“Gavrikov wants Kat Forrest.” I stared across the desk at Old Man Winter, a few hours later. I felt better after talking to Zollers, more determined. I had some clarity. Old Man Winter watched me the same as always, but next to him, Ariadne seemed to study me with more suspicion, more wariness. “But you probably knew that, because you know her name’s not Kat, not originally.”

Ariadne’s facade of wariness broke and she looked at Old Man Winter, then back to me. “What do you mean? What’s her name?”

“Klementina Gavrikov,” I said, forcing myself not to smile. It wasn’t funny that Old Man Winter hadn’t told his top lieutenant, who I liked to snark at, something of vital importance. Or at least that’s what I told myself as I mashed my toe into my shoe and against the floor. Nope, didn’t smile.

“She’s his…” Ariadne blinked three times, then looked to Old Man Winter for confirmation.

“Clone,” I said, “or at least that’s what he thinks.”

“He is incorrect,” Old Man Winter said, his hands steepled in front of his face.

“Don’t tell him that,” I said. “I don’t want to see what happens when a human bomb gets told he’s wrong.”

“She is his sister,” Old Man Winter said, as though I had not interrupted. “Not a clone.”

“Oh?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Gavrikov…Aleksandr,” I said, softening my tone, “seemed to think she had died in 1908.”

“She did not.” He stared back coolly. He did everything coolly, dammit…I wished I had his glacial reserve. Half the time I was trembling beneath my badass exterior, just a scared kid. “She is as long-lived as any other powerful meta and as adaptable at healing. Whatever happened to her, she recovered.” He hesitated. “Though there is a…cost to her power.”

“There’s a cost to any power, it seems.” I breezed it out, way more than I really felt. “After all, if I used my power constantly, I’d end up with the mental equivalent of a clown car.”

Ariadne didn’t seem to find that amusing. “Her power, when used to excess, triggers almost the opposite.”

“Personalities leave her?” I shrugged. “Explains a lot.”

Old Man Winter spoke. “She loses her memory. If a Persephone-type reaches the end of their strength and continues to heal or grow a life, it is at the cost of their own faculties. They become a blank slate, new, fresh. Young again, as well, but at the cost of all they remember.”

“Tabula rasa,” I said with a breath.

“Indeed.” Ariadne took her usual place by the window. “If Gavrikov is after her, it would be best if we hid her for a while.”

Old Man Winter gave her a subtle nod. “You know where.”

“The basement? You’re gonna send her to the basement, right? Where you stuck me when I was hiding from Wolfe?” I shook my head. “Bet the flower girl will love that. Couldn’t you send her to another campus?”

Old Man Winter’s reaction was subtle, but not so subtle I missed it. “It would be best to have her close at hand.”

“Why?” I was curious. “Because you can protect her better here?”

His answer was lacking in any kind of subtlety, and it rattled me. “Because it is not wise to deprive a man who can explode with the force of a nuclear bomb of the only thing he desires—the thing he would be willing to do anything to get.”

I felt a pressure deep in my throat, this time less raw emotion and more…unsettling. “Yeah…that doesn’t sound too wise.”

I found myself in the cafeteria. The glass had been repaired from when Clary and I had our epic battle, but the kitchen looked as though it were closed. The options for meals appeared to have been carted in by caterers; the serving buffet (which we had destroyed) was gone, replaced by long tables, heating elements and silver devices designed to keep the food warm. Most of the cafeteria ladies were gone, but the few that were left gave me glares as I passed. Nothing new there.

Until I got to the end. I picked up a croissant and put it on my plate, ready to face the inevitable crowd to see if there was a place for me to sit by myself. “Excuse me?” The light voice jarred me and I looked up to see one of the cafeteria workers. She was young, a little older than me, but round of face and with big brown eyes. She smiled at me and I looked back at her. “Thank you. For warning us to get out of the kitchen before it happened.”

I stared at her. “What?”

“When you and the big man fought into the kitchen?” She indicated with her eyes to the corner where M-Squad sat, Clary laughing his way through three plates piled high in front of him. “You warned us to get out right before it exploded.” Her eyes were sincere and her smile was sad. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have let you get caught in the middle of what was going to happen.” I managed to croak the words out. In truth, I didn’t even remember saying anything to them. If I had, it was an offhand comment, no more worthy of recognition than anything else you do without thinking about it.

Yet somewhere, deep inside, I felt Wolfe, almost buried, stir in revulsion. Zollers had given me a second dose of the drug after our session in his office, and the drowsy effects were considerably less (though I was still tired). I could feel him though, in there somewhere, upset at what I had done.

Naturally, it caused me to smile back at the girl. “You’re welcome.”

I walked across the cafeteria to where a guy sat at a table for two, all by his lonesome. He looked, honestly, like someone had stolen all his happy. I stopped in front of him. “Is this seat taken?”

“What do you want?” Scott Byerly’s voice was worn resignation, all shot through with deadness.

“I want…” I took a deep breath. “I want to apologize.” I swallowed my pride and went on as he looked up in surprise. “There may have been some other influences pushing me toward what I did to you, but it was still wrong and ultimately it was on me. I…I’m sorry.”

He seemed to awaken, his glazed-over eyes darting back to life. His leg slid the chair out across from him and a nod of the head was all it took to convince me to sit down. “You know where Kat is?” He looked at me with a little hope.

I froze, mouth full of Swedish meatballs (they were awesome, way better than anything Mom made). “Yes,” I said at last. “She’s in the basement at Headquarters.”

He leaned across the table and whispered to me. “Why is she there?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’d prefer to talk about something else? Like, say, damned near killing me?”

I swallowed hard. “You didn’t accept my apology, did you?”

“Not yet. Why is she down there?”

I looked around on all sides of us. Nobody seemed to be very interested, and no one was in earshot. “She didn’t tell you?” I waited until he nodded before I looked around one final time. “The exploding guy, the one that trashed the Science Building—he’s after her. Wants her released from here.”

His face flushed. “She’s not a prisoner. She’s here because she wants to be.”

“That’s not how he sees it.”

His hand slammed the metal table and left an indentation. “It doesn’t matter how he sees it; she’s not going anywhere with him!”